"Below the _good_ how far! but far above the _great_[3]!"
In poetry I have sought to avoid system and mannerism. I wish those who
excel me in genius would pursue the same plan.
'Whether you remain in England, or journey to Italy, believe that you
carry with you my anxious wishes for your health and success--wherever
you are, or whatever you undertake--and that I am
'Yours sincerely,
'P.B. SHELLEY.'
Keats's reply to Shelley ran as follows:--
'Hampstead--August 10, 1820.
'MY DEAR SHELLEY,
'I am very much gratified that you, in a foreign country, and with a
mind almost over-occupied, should write to me in the strain of the
letter beside me. If I do not take advantage of your invitation, it will
be prevented by a circumstance I have very much at heart to prophesy[4].
There is no doubt that an English winter would put an end to me, and do
so in a lingering hateful manner. Therefore I must either voyage or
journey to Italy, as a soldier marches up to a battery. My nerves at
present are the worst part of me: yet they feel soothed that, come what
extreme may, I shall not be destined to remain in one spot long enough
to take a hatred of any four particular bedposts.
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